


The Mirror Has Three Faces

by CarnivalMirai



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hannibal (TV) Fusion, Alternate Universe - Police, Alternate Universe - Serial Killers, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Anxiety Attacks, Cannibalism, Couch Sex, Creampie, Criminal Profiler Katsuki Yuuri, Desk Sex, Dirty Talk, Disembowelment, Empath Katsuki Yuuri, FBI Agent Katsuki Yuuri, Falling In Love, Hannibal AU, Lap Sex, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Murder, Serial Killer Victor Nikiforov, Surgeon Victor Nikiforov, Therapist Victor Nikiforov, but actually morgue table sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:43:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26998402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CarnivalMirai/pseuds/CarnivalMirai
Summary: Agent Giacometti has requested the help of one Doctor Victor Nikiforov to monitor the mental stability of his most extraordinary criminal profiler, Special Agent Yuuri Katsuki, while pursuing a manhunt for the most notorious serial killer to date. Only... that serial killer is much closer than they thought, and he's about to get even closer.
Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov
Comments: 36
Kudos: 237





	The Mirror Has Three Faces

**Author's Note:**

> Normally I have notes for these but my only notes are stream NBC Hannibal on Netflix and tag all your tweets with #SaveHannibal and support the only showrunner who has ever had the courage to stand up for his fans against online harassment, openly support creators, and buy merch from small artists 🤷🏻♀️  
> No really tho please I'm begging 😂
> 
> The title of this fic comes from an episode of Pretty Little Liars.
> 
> I wrote these for my supporters on the forbidden P site, which you can find out more about from my pinned tweet on [Twitter!](https://twitter.com/CarnivalMirai) I managed to turn the majority of them into Fannibals, and now it's time to do God's work on AO3 too. 
> 
> Also... I apologise for presently having abandoned BMHTTSIP, I didn't intend to. But with keeping up with externally posted content, as well as keeping up with my uni work and writing fics that inspire me more, I just haven't had time to fit it in. I'm still working on it, I just haven't finished the next chapter. Sorry about that.

“This one could be from someone we haven’t heard from in… almost two years.” Special Agent Christophe Giacometti sighs as the crime scene investigators snap photographs of the gruesome, bloody scene. The body has been mutilated, but still maintains that standard of surgical professionalism. “What do you make of it, Yuuri?” Christophe asks. “Could it be the Ripper?” Yuuri’s brow creases, eyeing the mutilated body once more before speaking. 

“At first glance, it’s violent. Brutal and bloody. Beneath the surface of a ruthless murder is actually a series of well calculated cuts, a crime scene meticulously presented, beneath the chaos, it’s tidy.” He sighs contemplatively after having put together the pieces of the crime scene. “Any surgical trophies?” 

“Yet to be determined. We’ll know when we get the body to the morgue.” Yuuri nods. 

“I can see the Ripper… I can feel him… this is definitely the Ripper… expect a surgical trophy— an organ to be missing.” Mumbled Yuuri, brows still knitted together with concentration. 

“What is he doing with them? The surgical trophies?” Asks Christophe, and for a long time, Yuuri too, has asked the same question. The Ripper is sophisticated, every slice is done delicately, every cut is precise. Surgically precise. Yet the way these bodies are mutilated is almost… animalistic. Because that’s how the Ripper sees his victims— as  _ animals.  _

“He’s…” Yuuri swallows thickly. “He’s eating them.” 

Victor stands beside him, eyes narrowed, hands sliding into the pockets of his  _ Garrison Bespoke  _ wool suit. Victor’s face is stoic as he studies the scene around them, cogs turning in his head as he mentally examines every detail of the room around them, similar to the way Yuuri does. There’s a glimmer of a smile on his face, almost prideful at Yuuri’s examination of the crime scene. And just as Victor expects, Yuuri doesn't miss a single detail. 

“It is incredibly interesting watching you work, Yuuri.” He muses as they get into the car, lip twitching up into a smile. 

“It’s exhausting.” Murmurs Yuuri. “Mentally exhausting in every way you can imagine.” Victor smiles again, somewhat bemused. 

“It’s a good job Christophe assigned me to keep tabs on your health then, isn’t it?” He says as they pull away from the crime scene. “A crutch for you to depend on when you need it most, or when you least expect it.” Victor reminds him with a court, yet reassuring smile. “Christophe wants us at the morgue to keep building a profile of the Ripper. I must say, I’ve never done anything quite like building a profile in all my years of psychiatry, let alone the profile of a notorious serial murderer.” He chides. 

Yuuri glances at him— he can’t help but admire Victor’s sharp jaw, his tall nose, and the way his fringe is so neatly swept back. Not only is he intelligent and well educated, he’s undeniably alluring, and absolutely  _ reeks  _ of sex appeal. Yuuri’s face turns a rosy shade of pink as he bites his tongue, tearing his eyes away. 

“Well that’s something to add to your resume.” He jokes dryly, leaning his head against the car window as he sinks back into the soft leather seats of Victor’s Bentley. 

“Yes, I suppose it is.” 

***

Yuuri sighs as they arrive at the morgue, pushing open the glass door to see the most recent victim of the Ripper laid out on the table, covered by a white sheet. As soon as he and Victor walk in, Christophe pulls the white sheet back. 

“What have we got?” Yuuri asks quietly, one hand holding his chin while the other idly rubs his elbow. He feels Victor’s eyes on him, and he just knows the older man is psychoanalysing him, much to Yuuri’s dismay. 

“Kidney. Both missing.” Phichit informs, removing his lab goggles. “It’s been cut out… well, by a surgeon's hands, to put it simply. No regular person or even a butcher could have removed a whole organ with as much delicacy and attention to detail as this.” 

“Definitely the Ripper?” Asks Christophe, to which Yuuri timidly nods. God, this part of the job is almost as bad as stepping into the mind of a killer. It’s torturous, looking at the body like this, cleansed of the blood that stained the skin, revealing the signs of rigor mortis, the skin black and blue and pale. 

He just knows what Victor is thinking when he looks at Yuuri, for he remembers one of the first things Victor had ever said to him. 

_ “Your values and decency are present yet you are shocked at your associations, appalled at your dreams. No forts in the bone arena of your skull for things you love.” _

And as much as Yuuri hates to admit it, Victor is right. He  _ is  _ appalled at his dreams. These crime scenes plague him at night. They get into his head and keep him awake, invading every part of his brain. There truly are no forts in the bone arena of his skull for the things he loves, as Victor had once put it. 

You’re thinking too hard.” Victor says as he moves to rest his hand over Yuuri’s thigh, but stopping for a split second to make sure Yuuri is okay with it. As if he can read his mind, Yuuri grasps Victor’s hand. 

“Can’t help it.” Murmured Yuuri as his hand slides under Victor’s, their fingers tentatively lacing as they test on his thigh. “I can’t turn my thinking off any more than you can, remember?” Victor lets out a soft chuckle, his thumb running over the space between Yuuri’s thumb and forefinger. 

“I am aware.” He says. “Would you like to discuss it?” Yuuri gives something akin to a dismissive shrug. 

“It’s nothing you haven’t heard before.” 

“Maybe so. But it doesn’t hurt to hear it again.” Yuuri squeezes Victor’s hand, finding comfort in the warmth of his palm. Neither of them mention the… platonic handholding. 

*** 

Victor arrives home shortly after dropping Yuuri back off at the academy to pick up his car. He hangs his coat and makes his way gracefully into the kitchen to prepare an extravagant meal for one. His suit jacket comes off, his shirt sleeves roll up, and he ties an apron around his waist. 

Victor opens the door to the refrigerator, where a ziplock bag sits, containing one of tonight’s proteins—  _ kidney,  _ for the kidney portion of steak and kidney pie. A portion of flank steak also comes out of the refrigerator, along with an assortment of vegetables. 

A graceful hand hacks at the meat and dices the vegetables— celery, carrots, and onion all diced for a mirepoix. He tosses the vegetables into a hot pan with some butter, the kitchen instantly filling with a fresh, warm fragrance as the vegetables cook. A tablespoon of flour goes into the vegetables, and even as he pours homemade beef stock into the pot, the movement has just as much elegance as the rest of him. 

He heats a separate pan to sear off the meats, then adds them to the silky beef sauce before adding the filling into a handmade pie crust. 

Victor smiles at his handiwork as it goes into the oven, prideful of the… meat,  _ ethically  _ sourced by himself, and pleased with the pastry, bound to be flaky and crumbly. 

Originally, he had intended for Yuuri to accompany him too, but as always, Christophe pushes their best profiler to his limits, and by the time they were done in the morgue, Yuuri hardly had the stomach to eat. Not that Victor can blame him. He did still try to convince him to come for dinner, but Victor knows not to push, knows that he has to be respectful of Yuuri’s boundaries, especially when it comes to socialising. 

Victor wonders if Yuuri would ever accompany him at one of his dinner parties. Likely not, he concludes, for while they enjoy each other’s company, Yuuri is less than comfortable in the company of others. 

It’s only when Victor bumps into an old friend at the opera that inspiration for a dinner party strikes, at the request and persuasion of said old friend. And… what a perfect opportunity to…  _ eat the rude.  _

Victor starts with the unspeakably rude lady running the artisan cheese store. Her attitude is definitely not one Victor can tolerate. With his plastic murder suit covering his three piece suit, he walks in just as the store closes. 

“We’re closed.” She grunts as the bell on the door rings. 

“I know.” She turns around at that thick Russian accent to see Victor clad in a three piece tartan ensemble, covered with plastic vinyl. Gloves cover his hands as he flicks the blade of his hunting knife and he gives her three seconds to  _ look  _ terrified, to  _ feel  _ fearful. She’s stood stock still, legs trembling as Victor comes closer.

_ “Heart tartare,”  _ Victor thinks as he grabs her by the neck and plunges the blade into her stomach. She splutters, and Victor doesn’t give her a moment to contemplate her death as he drags the blade through her flesh, guts spilling over the hardwood floor. 

The body falls limp on the floor, so Victor kneels down to dissect the body, leaving the prized heart intact. She’s still breathing, much to Victor’s delight as he gets to work on the body. 

“Hopefully, you'll now know not to be so rude to customers.” He muses. “Not that that matters anymore.” 

———————————————————————

Yuuri is almost  _ horrified _ when they arrive at the artisan cheese shop the next morning. No matter how many mutilated bodies he sees, it never makes it any easier to stomach. But he has to hold back that sickening feeling to do his job. 

“Alright, everyone out.” Christophe orders. 

Yuuri begins to immerse himself into the crime scene, putting together piece by piece the death of the nameless artisanal cheese shop worker. 

He can see himself coming into the cheese shop, a hunting knife in his hand. The bell rings and she turns around as Yuuri stalks closer and closer. The knife dives right into her gut, slashing her open, and Yuuri lets the body fall to the ground. But there’s another wound. One in her chest. And Yuuri can feel how brutal, yet so meticulous the Ripper cuts. 

His heart rate rises in his chest and suddenly, he feels dizzy. The Ripper murders always take the biggest toll on him. Because Yuuri sees someone blended in so well, someone who’s careful and organised and professional and intelligent. Someone with no motive, no specification for their victims, someone who’s social and well liked and… Yuuri has  _ no idea  _ how they intend to catch him. 

How could someone ruthless be so graceful with every cut? The body is… theatrically displayed. Like a painting or a sculpture. Something so beautiful yet so grotesque. 

_ “Your values and decency are present yet shocked at your associations.”  _ And that… that has a whole new meaning now, because Yuuri is truly disgusted by how beautiful he finds this piece of art.

His eyes snap open and he gasps.

“It’s the Ripper…” He murmurs to himself as he stares at the body on the floor. There will be at least another body to follow in his…  _ sounder. _

Yuuri rips open the door and comes out, breaths laboured as sweat sticks to his hands and shines on his forehead. 

“Yuuri? Are you alright?” Victor asks, concerned as he steps forward into Yuuri’s personal space to comfort him. 

“It’s the Ripper.” Yuuri breathes shakily. “There will be more bodies, the Ripper kills in sounders of three.” He reminds. “He’ll kill again, and then he’ll be silent for months, years.” Yuuri sucks in a shaky breath as Christophe sends in the forensics unit to clean up. 

“You’re sure it’s the Ripper?” Yuuri nods as Victor puts a comforting hand on his arm and rubs his thumb into his flesh. He swallows thickly, and as Christophe heads back in, he's left outside with only Victor. 

“God, I don’t know what it is about this one that has me so… worked up.” Yuuri sighs raggedly. “I was fine after yesterday’s but today…”

“This is a stressful job.” Victor reminds. “You said so yourself— you loathe this part of your job, and the Ripper murders take the biggest toll. It is only normal for you to react so strongly every so often, especially when you are stepping into the mind of a killer. You are only human, after all, this kind of work would do that to anybody.” He steps closer, one hand cupping Yuuri’s face as he tenderly caresses his face. 

“I know, I know. It just doesn’t make it any more tolerable.” 

“Why do you keep working for Christophe? Knowing how badly it affects you?” Victor asks as Yuuri pulls out of his grasp. “He gave you a chance to quit, and you didn’t take it. 

“I’m saving lives.” 

“If the FBI cannot solve murders without you it seems to me that that is more of a problem for them than a problem for you.” Suggests Victor, to which Yuuri’s brows crease and he frowns. “I don’t care about the lives you save Yuuri, I’m your friend. I only care about yours.” 

“I’ll be alright.” 

***

Yuuri, however, is far from alright. Victor notices he’s a bit out of it when they get to the morgue, likely a consequence of analysing this morning’s crime scene. 

“Do you need to step out, Yuuri?” He asks, to which Yuuri stiffly shakes his head. 

“No, no, it’s okay.” Sighs Yuuri. “I’m just… just tired.” 

And as they watch the autopsy, Yuuri’s legs begin to feel heavy, his sentences less than coherent as he rubs his temples and squeezes his eyes shut, trying to clear his nausea. Victor side eyes him, glance flickering between the body on the table and Yuuri. 

Yuuri’s vision suddenly goes black, and he collapses. Victor is quick to catch him before he falls to the ground however, arms cradling Yuuri’s body as he slowly lowers him to the floor. He kneels, Yuuri’s head on his lap. 

“Woah, is he okay?” Christophe asks as Victor removes his glasses and opens his eyes to inspect the pupils. 

“Stress, I suspect.” Victor murmurs. “He’ll be alright, but ample rest is necessary. I must insist that your persistence to use Yuuri’s empathy in order to profile these killers is going to push him further than he can take.” Christophe’s brow creases. 

“He’s the best we have, Doctor. I have to push him.” Victor turns around to face him. 

“As I told Yuuri earlier. If the FBI is incapable of doing their job without his assistance, it sounds more like a problem for you than for him.” Victor’s face remains stoic as he studies Christophe’s face, expression taut and displeased. 

“He’s saving lives.” Christophe utters. 

“I don’t care about the lives he saves.” Victor declares. “I care only about Yuuri’s and right now you are jeopardising his health.” He stays on the floor, Yuuri’s head on his lap, and it takes the younger man a few minutes to come to. “Yuuri?” 

“V-Victor…?” Yuuri murmurs, eyes fluttering. 

“You fainted.” Victor informs. “Likely due to stress and fatigue, I suggest sitting out the rest of this case.” Yuuri grumbles. He wants to protest, but his head pounds and his eyes ache and his body is stiff. “Are you alright to stand?” Yuuri sits up and Victor stands, knees clicking as he helps Yuuri up. “You are in no condition to drive. Let me take you home.” Yuuri acquiesces, allowing Victor to wrap an arm around his waist to guide him. 

Yuuri does not realise that home means  _ Victor’s  _ home. Not that he minds, though. Drowsily, he drags himself out of the car and follows Victor into the house. 

“I hope you don’t mind me bringing you back to my place,” Victor says as he opens the door, “I just think it would be beneficial for you to have someone to take care of you.” Yuuri’s cheeks tint pink at that as he nods. “As for your dogs, if no one is taking care of them, I can bring them over too.” Yuuri nods again. 

“Yes, please.” Murmurs Yuuri. Victor nods and leads him up the stairs to the guest bedroom. 

“I will go out and pick them up.” He opens the door to the guest bedroom and helps Yuuri in. “Have a rest for now, I will bring them up when I come home.” Yuuri huffs. 

“You don’t seem like the kind of person to like dogs.” He smiles wearily. 

“Contrary to popular belief… I really enjoy the presence of your canine friends.” 

***

Yuuri hears the faint pitter patter of paws— it seems Victor has returned with his dogs. Sitting up, he watches as the door opens, and six dogs come rushing into the room, jumping onto his bed, eager for attention. 

“I have fed them, so you don’t need to worry about that.” Víctor says as he leans against the door frame, arms folded over his chest as he watches the scene unfold.

“Umm… thank you…” Murmurs Yuuri. “You didn’t have to do this for me.” Victor can only smile and nod. 

“I’ll make you something to eat.” 

———————————————————————

Victor flicks through his Rolodex of business cards taken from people he's encountered who were… less than pleasant. The second  _ hors d'oeuvre _ is wagyu beef roulade… but Victor thinks he might just replace the wagyu beef with… something else. Or rather  _ someone  _ else. And that  _ someone  _ just so happens to be a petrol station worker who… well, let’s just say Victor was not impressed with his attitude. 

It’s the dead of night. Yuuri is asleep in the guest room, having spent another night at Victor’s insistence, so Victor has a chance to farm fresh produce for his dinner party. He pushes open the door to the petrol station convenience store, plastic murder suit covering another three piece ensemble. The night shift worker, currently stocking the shelves, looks up, and Victor watches as his brow creases in confusion, likely at his odd outfit. 

“Good evening.” He murmurs, and once more, Victor is unimpressed by the foul aura he seems to give off. Victor does not greet him back. He moves quickly as he effortlessly snaps his neck, rendering the poor night shift worker paralysed. Flicking his blade, Victor slices through the flank, removing a chunk of meat from his side. 

Every move is elegant, graceful as Victor sets aside the flank of meat. He cannot forget his surgical trophy after all. For a dinner party, he must make the most of his sounder. So, the liver gets removed too. It would make great foie gras.

***

Yuuri has spent two nights in Victor’s luxurious abode, with all meals prepared and cooked for him, as if Yuuri were staying in a hotel. But unfortunately, work calls, especially after having taken two days off. 

“Christophe just phoned.” Victor says as he stands at Yuuri’s doorway. “Another Ripper victim he suspects, but he’d like us there.” Yuuri can only groan as he sits up, one hand cradling his head as he tries to wake himself up and stop his head from spinning. “Coffee is on the table, so come down when you’re ready.” 

*** 

It’s a quiet drive to the crime scene. Yuuri’s head is leaning against the window and again, that tentative, definitely platonic hand holding is back. Victor’s thumb idly rubs over the space between Yuuri’s forefinger and thumb as he drives, feeling the soft skin beneath his calloused thumb. 

They pull up at the petrol station, now cordoned off by crime scene tape. 

“Are you ready?” Silently, Yuuri nods. Their hands separate and they get out of the car. Christophe spots them first, and comes over. 

“The crime scene is as fresh as possible for you, Yuuri.” He says, to which Yuuri nods, and follows him. “Take your time, come out when you’re ready.” Victor watches intently as Yuuri pushes open the door to the petrol station convenience store and steps in. 

“So? How has he been?” Christophe asks as they both watch Yuuri through the glass. 

“Well rested.” Victor says. “That is, until your phone call this morning.” His hands slide into the pockets of his suit pants as he keeps a close eye on Yuuri, ready to get him out of there if he needs to. Christophe sighs. 

“Look, I have to catch the Ripper—“ 

“And you’d manipulate Yuuri to do your dirty work for you.” Victor fills in. “You’d use and abuse his ability with no consideration for the consequences of your actions.” 

“He’s saving lives.” Victor sighs— this line  _ again.  _

“You hired me to keep Yuuri’s stability in check, to make sure he stays grounded when these crimes get into his head, and to give advice on how best to handle him.” Victor reminds him. “Yet you take none of that advice when I tell you you cannot push him so hard.” Christophe frowns.

“Bodies upon bodies are turning up mutilated by a serial killer we have been trying to capture for years. If I don’t push Yuuri, we won’t catch him.” 

“You might also lose the best profiler you’ve ever had.” 

***

Yuuri stares at the body in front of him. Sucking in a deep, shaky breath, he closes his eyes and starts pulling apart the crime scene layer by layer. 

Yuuri can see the way the killer plunges a blade into his abdomen. He feels like he’s watching as the Ripper viciously carves out a side of flank, and then his movements are almost balletic as he slashes through the flesh to remove his surgical trophy. Yuuri can practically  _ feel  _ the Ripper. He can sense him. If only he could see him too.

Yuuri almost feels sick. But what’s new? It’s part of the job. He has to swallow back his nausea once again-- they have a notorious serial killer to catch, and this might be the last chance they get before he goes dormant. When he opens his eyes, he’s greeted by the morbid reality that is the body in front of him. Swallowing thickly, he leaves. 

“It’s the Ripper.” Yuuri murmurs to Christophe as he comes out. “But-- but this could be the last of his sounder. He never leaves any evidence. This man is intelligent. He’s not sloppy or lazy, everything he does is well calculated with all the risks taken into account.” Sighs Yuuri, hands balled into fists at his sides. 

“This might be our last chance to catch him.” Yuuri stiffly nods. 

But luckily for him, Victor is killing for a dinner party. And this is definitely not the last of his sounder. He smiles proudly to himself, wondering how long this can go on for-- this flirtation between an FBI profiler and a serial murderer-- before Yuuri catches on. 

There’s something Victor sees behind that persona that wants to save lives. Behind that empathy. There’s something festering, something dark, and Victor is… curious to see if he can draw it out. 

———————————————————————

The murders seem to have simmered down in the last two days, thus, Yuuri’s fatigue has also simmered. A few days later, Yuuri is half way through teaching his class-- on  _ psychoanalysing--  _ when Victor comes into his class. At first, Yuuri doesn’t even notice. It’s only when he dismisses his class that he spots Victor, approaching his desk. 

“Victor.” He smiles. “What are you doing here?” 

“I came to bring lunch.” He hands Yuuri a plastic lunchbox, with what looks to be the most delicious fillet of salmon, seared and served with asparagus and potatoes. “Unfortunately I cannot stay. I have an appointment in a little over an hour, and need to head back to the office.” He sighs. 

“Thank you.” Yuuri says gratefully, taking the lunchbox. Earlier in their friendship, he would have rejected, insisting that Victor shouldn’t have to take care of him like this. But when Victor makes meals so decadent and appetising, who was Yuuri to say  _ no? _

“It’s my pleasure.”

It only hits Yuuri half an hour later, while he’s tucked into his salmon, that Victor had driven almost an hour to deliver lunch to him. 

“Wow, your lunch looks good.” Yuuri turns his head to see Reed, Senior Lecturer in Forensic Psychology, standing at his desk. 

“Reed. Hi.” Yuuri murmurs. 

“Let me guess-- the psychiatrist?” Reed asks, to which Yuuri gives a bit of a nod, but not quite. 

“Technically, not my psychiatrist.” Yuuri mumbles, cutting off a piece of salmon. “But yes.” Reed raises his brows curiously. 

“Doesn’t he work and live out of town?” Yuuri nods again. “He must really like you.” He muses, causing a blush to spread across Yuuri’s face at the realisation that Victor  _ does  _ show him far more affection than he does anyone else. “Anyway, Christophe sent me to give you this report on the Ripper, now with the information of the most recent murders.” He drops the file on Yuuri’s desk. “He wants you to read over it, and see if we’ve missed anything, or anything new stands out that wasn’t there before.” Yuuri relents with a sigh.

“Alright. I’ll do it after lunch.” Then, a pause. “Are you free after lunch?” Asks Yuuri. 

“I have a class first, but I am after that. Why?” Reed asks back.

“Just… might need another set of eyes to help me out with this, is all.” Mumbles Yuuri as he opens the file. 

“Okay. I’ll come by after class, see if I can help.” Yuuri lets out a sigh of relief and smiles. “See you later?” Yuuri nods.

“See you later.”

As soon as he polishes off his lunch, he pulls his phone out. 

To: Victor

You drove an hour to bring me lunch

To: Victor

You didn’t have to do that

To: Victor

It was delicious, thank you.

Yuuri puts his phone down, and opens the file Reed has left for him, starting with the very first Ripper murders from six years ago. As soon as he opens the file however, a text comes in. 

From: Victor. 

It was my pleasure. I’m happy to cook for you. 

Yuuri can only smile down at the text before he gets back to work.

———————————————————————

Yuuri finds himself at Victor’s home more often than not, normally for dinner. After a long day, Victor tends to cook for him, and even when Victor doesn’t accompany him to crime scenes, he still asks if Yuuri would like to come over. And how can Yuuri say no? 

Victor notices as he cooks that Yuuri is exceptionally tired and quiet. He sits on the chair in the kitchen, elbow resting on the arm of the chair and his head supported by his hand. 

“Are you alright, Yuuri?” Victor asks, looking up from the counter. “Anything you want to talk about?” Tiredly, Yuuri grumbles and shakes his head. Victor doesn’t press further. “Dinner won’t be ready for another hour, if you want, you can take a nap upstairs. I’ll call you down for dinner?” Yuuri sighs and stands up. 

“Sorry.” He murmurs. “I’m just exhausted.” 

“It’s okay.” Reassures Victor. “Upstairs, down the corridor, and then left.” Yuuri nods, and quietly leaves the kitchen to head up the stairs. 

Yuuri, however, only hears  _ “upstairs, down the corridor,”  _ and  _ “then left”  _ goes in one ear and out the other. Unknowingly, he finds himself in Victor’s room, but he’s too fatigued to even register the pretentious decorations and the pompous silk quilted duvet. As soon as he collapses on the sheets, he’s out like a light, consumed by the silk bedding. 

*** 

Victor cooks quietly. On the menu today is roasted lamb chops (from an actual lamb), with vegetables and a summer berry sauce. Just as the lamb chops are about to come out of the oven, Victor heads upstairs to wake Yuuri. He gets to the guest bedroom and knocks. 

“Yuuri?” No response. He tries again. “Yuuri?” When there's no response again, Victor opens the door and oddly enough the bed is— empty. And still made. His brow creases. Where could Yuuri be? 

“Yuuri?” He calls again as he checked the second guest bedroom. And then, with one final gamble at the master bedroom, he opened the door to find Yuuri sound asleep, tucked under the thick covers. He smiles at the sight, approaching the bed.

“Yuuri.” He shakes his shoulder gently, and Yuuri rouses from his slumber. “Dinner will be ready in a moment.” He says as Yuuri rubs his eyes with the side of his thumbs with a grumble. Victor picks up his glasses. “Was my bed comfortable?” He asks, somewhat teasingly, and it takes Yuuri three seconds to process the question before he jerks up from the bed, a look of horror and humiliation on his face. 

“I didn’t realise.” He murmurs, brow creased as he tugs his lip between his teeth. Victor huffs in amusement and smiles. 

“I actually think it’s rather endearing.” He croons, catching Yuuri completely off guard. “Dinner will be ready in a moment.” Nodding, Yuuri slides shamefully out of Victor’s bed and follows him back downstairs. 

***

“Your bed was comfortable.” Yuuri murmurs nonchalantly as he cuts a piece of lamb. Victor glanced up from his plate, unable to keep the smug smile off his face. 

“Seems to me like you want to sleep in it again.” Victor coos with a teasing smile, that causes a tint of pink to colour Yuuri’s cheeks. 

“That’s— That’s not what I—“ 

“If you want to spend the night Yuuri, I am more than happy to have your company.” Yuuri glances up at him, mouth agape as he gazed into Victor’s bright eyes. “

“Oh.” There was a beat of silence before Yuuri murmured, “okay,”. 

So Yuuri ends up staying the night, after having troubled Victor once again to pick up his dogs from over an hour away. And it’s here where Yuuri realises that perhaps Victor does enjoy his company, seeing as though he’d deliberately drive out to pick up his dogs, just to get Yuuri to stay. 

Victor kindly offers him the guest room, which is just to the left of his own, next door, and shyly, Yuuri makes himself comfortable, stripping out of his clothes and into a too-big set of pyjamas, kindly lent to him by Victor. Yuuri bids him goodnight and crawls beneath the sheets, exhausted to the bone as he yanks the sheets right up to his chin. 

But despite his fatigued state, Yuuri cannot sleep. He’s acutely aware of the rain picking up outside, the wind blowing against the window as the storm brews. He can hear everything, from the crack of the thunder to the tick of the clock, Yuuri can hear everything around him. Sighing, he tosses and turns. 

He lays awake for what feels like hours, limbs heavier than lead, yet mind more active than if he were standing at a crime scene. Part of Yuuri wonders whether Victor is awake too. Likely not, for unlike him, Victor is actually normal. But the thunder roars and his head is so loud that he feels like he needs Victor’s company to keep him grounded, as Victor knows how to best.

Without giving himself a second to doubt himself, Yuuri climbs out of bed and leaves the room, quietly heading down the hallway to Victor’s room. The door is ajar, a bit of light seeping through, presumably from a lamp, and slowly, he pushes open the door. 

***

Victor, luckily, has no intentions of adding another dish to his upcoming banquet just yet, for he hears Yuuri, awoken by the storm that brews outside. Then, he hears the soft patter of footsteps before his bedroom door pushes open. Before Yuuri can make his presence known, Victor looks up from the book he’s reading, the bedside lamp lighting up the small space around him. He pulls his glasses off his face. 

“Struggling to sleep?” Asks Victor, putting down his book. 

“Something like that.” Murmurs Yuuri. “The- the rain and thunder and I can hear everything it’s just—“ Yuuri cuts off his rambling with a sigh. “Mind if I join you?” Yuuri asks quietly, hoping the darkness of the room hides the soft flush on his cheeks. Victor smiles. 

“Of course.” Victor shuffles across, further to the right side of the bed to make space for Yuuri, who tentatively comes into the room and climbs onto the bed, sitting up beside Victor. 

“What are you thinking about?” Victor asks, with that psychiatrist tone that Yuuri somewhat loathes. Yuuri shrugs. 

“Just can’t sleep. I can hear everything from the thunder outside to the blood in my ears and--” Yuuri sucks in a deep breath. “Everything is… just too loud.” Victor slides beneath the sheets, encouraging Yuuri to do the same. Tentatively, Yuuri tucks himself under the comfort of Victor’s silk sheets for the second time that evening, and shifts a little closer. He gasps, surprised as his heart soars in his chest, throat going dry with anxiousness as Victor’s arm wraps around his body and pulls him closer. Yuuri doesn't even dare  _ breathe.  _

“Is this okay?” Asks Victor as he turns off the lamp and curls closer. Yuuri doesn’t respond. He’s stiff at first, nervous, for this type of intimacy is new for them, despite their platonic handholding and embracing and the evening meals they share. But Yuuri nods, for he cannot help but fall for Victor’s charm. 

Victor notices how stiff the younger man is but he hopes his presence will only comfort him. And it does. Soon enough, Yuuri begins to relax. Victor turns on his side to fully encase him and pull him to his chest. He can hear Yuuri’s trembling, nervous breaths gradually even out, and then his shallow, steady breaths become slower and deeper as he falls asleep. His hand cards through Yuuri’s hair, and as soon as Victor is sure Yuuri is fully asleep, he deems it safe to close his eyes, reassured that Yuuri won’t have any trouble sleeping this time.

———————————————————————

Victor always has, and likely always will be an early riser. So it’s no surprise to him when he wakes up to find Yuuri is still asleep, and still curled up in his arms. He looks peaceful, for once. Whenever Victor looks at Yuuri, he’s always so tense, with his brow creased and lips turned into a frown. Victor can always hear the cogs in his head, feel the tension that radiates from him. But now, at this very moment, when Yuuri is curled up in his arms and encased with silk sheets, he just looks soft, peaceful, like there’s not a single worry on his mind. Victor sighs contently, lifting a hand to cup Yuuri’s cheeks. 

He hasn’t really had a chance to properly admire Yuuri until now. His skin is soft and his lashes are long… Yuuri truly is the epitome of beauty, and Victor would be more than happy if they could have a couple more mornings just like this, where he gets to watch Yuuri sleep. He can’t spend too long indulging in this moment forever, for he has a patient coming at nine o’clock. So when the time finally comes, far too quickly for Victor’s liking, he slides out of the sheets and starts his day, Yuuri still in bed. 

***

Yuuri, less than half conscious, feels the exact moment Victor lifts off the bed, the mattress bouncing as Victor sits up. But he’s still far too tired and far too unconscious to properly process it, thus, Yuuri stays asleep, curling up into the warmth of the mattress, left behind by Victor just moments earlier. He buries his face in Victor’s pillow, inhaling Victor’s expensive cologne as he continues to succumb to slumber. 

Unfortunately, Yuuri’s deep sleep is interrupted by his alarm, though thankfully, not by a phone call from Christophe. He wakes up, just as Victor comes out of the closet, now dressed in a red and grey grid printed three piece suit. 

“Good morning, Yuuri.” He greets with a smile. “Did you sleep well?” Yuuri can only nod tiredly. 

“I did, thank you…” He murmurs. “It was umm… it was the best I’ve slept in a long while.” Yuuri timidly admits with a sheepish smile. That smile must be contagious, for a content smile covers Victor's face. 

“I’m glad.” He says. “I wouldn’t mind if you wanted to spend more nights here. To help you sleep.” Yuuri smiles gratefully again as he slides out of the sheets. 

“Thank you, but I don't think I could impose like that.” He sighs. “I already troubled you with my dogs.” Victor doesn’t protest. He nods, and accepts Yuuri’s answer. 

“The offer is there for you to take at any time.” 

———————————————————————

Victor’s freezer is almost full of meat for his upcoming dinner party. There are just a few more ingredients he needs to harvest, and four more days until his guests are due through his front door. 

The bodies turn up quicker and quicker, and Yuuri finds himself comforted by Victor’s presence almost nightly. In fact, it has become routine for him (and his dogs) to spend the night with Victor after a body turns up. Being alone means Yuuri’s nightmares consume him. But being with Victor means he has someone to talk about these nightmares with, and someone to rely on. Victor is more than happy to be that someone. In some way, this is what inspires Victor to keep killing-- the prospect of having Yuuri in his bed. 

The younger man always looks so peaceful beneath his silk sheets, in comparison to how prickly and tense he normally is. He’s beautiful, too, Victor notices when they crawl under the sheets and Yuuri instantly falls asleep. Victor often takes the time to just watch the younger man sleep, admiring his long lashes and his sweet smile, so innocent under his corrupted mind. And Yuuri, too, seems to enjoy curling up in Victor’s arms on an almost nightly basis, considering his far more relaxed state.

Yuuri has taken a liking to sharing a bed with Victor. Nothing sexual ever happens. It’s the comfort of being enveloped in Victor’s warmth that drowns out all the noises in his head and puts a stop to the cogs that turn too hard. He enjoys having the company at night, having someone to talk to so he doesn't get consumed by his own head. The cases Christophe puts him on, especially the Ripper murders, send him spiralling so frequently that the only place he can find solace is with Victor. 

Having someone who understands him, or at the very least, understands his thinking, and can help pull himself out of the tangled web of his mind feels like having someone to hold his hand while he fights through whatever Christophe throws at him. That someone just so happens to be Victor. And Victor seems to have no qualms against it, if the way he welcomes Yuuri almost nightly beneath his covers is any indication. 

Yuuri, however, doesn't notice that sometimes, Victor slips out from the covers, and doesn’t return for hours. 

***

“Are you sure you’re alright with this, Yuuri?” Victor asks as they climb into the car. Stiffly, Yuuri nods. 

“Even if I’m not, it’s my job.” He murmurs. “What I do saves lives-- or… I like to tell myself it does.” Instinctively, he grasps Victor’s hand in the way he always does, as Victor starts the car. “Besides, I have you, don’t I? For when I’m not okay.” Victor offers him a reassuring smile and squeezes his hand. 

“That, you do. I am a handle to keep you grounded. Don’t forget that.” 

***

Yuuri almost faints again when he processes another crime scene, left behind by the Ripper. It’s gloriously presented, as it always is. But what’s different about this one, is the number of victims. Normally, the Ripper kills in sounders of three. But there is now a fourth victim. Yuuri is almost certain he’s eating them, but the last three bodies were discovered between a week and four days ago. Part of him wonders how much the Ripper intends to eat. Unless…

“He’s got guests coming.” Murmurs Yuuri. They’re currently standing in the morgue, looking over the most recent bodies of the Ripper’s victims. “He’s intelligent, with surgical experience, and I bet he has a social circle that is just as pretentious as the art he makes of his murders.” He observes, flicking through the crime scene photos and comparing them to the bodies laid out on the tables. 

Reed stands beside him, studying their newest victim as it lies on the table, and he conveys his thoughts to Yuuri, much to Victor’s dismay. They’re standing entirely too close, and if Yuuri spent less time staring at Victor’s victims and more time staring at  _ Victor,  _ he might just notice the crease on his brow and the frown on his face. Victor gets the feeling that if he wants Yuuri, he’ll have to compete with him.

“He has an exquisite taste for fine art. Probably extends further than renaissance paintings to classical music, opera, probably even ballet.” Yuuri doesn’t catch it, but next to him, the frown on Victor’s face morphs, and the corner of Victor’s lip turns up into a smile. 

“This would make for good lecture material.” Reed suggests. “The murder tableaus, analysis of each victim, how exactly he’s choosing them…” He continues. 

“We don’t know how he’s choosing them though.” Yuuri points out. “As far as we know, it’s random.” 

_ “Random _ is still an algorithm of how these victims are being chosen.” Reed debates. “Somewhere in the Ripper’s mind, these victims are linked. We just have to find it.” Yuuri sighs. 

“You’re right.” He mumbles, brow crinkled with frustration. “I’ll umm… I’ll add it to the lecture plan… or something. Maybe profiling victims we can see will be easier than profiling a killer we can’t see.”

“I’ll come over later. Help you out with it.” Victor-- does  _ not  _ like the sound of that one bit. His jaw clenches and his teeth grit, top lip rolled under his teeth annoyance as he stiffens 

If only Yuuri knew that the killer he’s chasing has been sharing a bed with him all this time. 

***

That evening, Yuuri decides to go home, after having spent the last week at Victor’s house, sharing his bed, sharing his space. Yuuri figures it’s time to stop imposing and take Victor’s kindness for granted. Despite the fact that he genuinely feels appreciated by Victor’s company, and appreciates Victor’s company in the same way, he can’t help but feel like he’s invading. So Yuuri finds himself back at home to a very empty, very lonely abode. 

He has his dogs, but it just feels like something is missing. Though, to be honest, the only reason he's even home is because Reed offered to come and help plan his lecture. He sighs, pushing the loneliness to the back of his head as he prepares himself something to eat. Reed will be coming over soon, and he needs fuel to put together this lecture. There’s a lot to unpack about the Ripper, after all, so Yuuri makes a quick sandwich to temporarily sate his hunger. 

Yuuri spreads crime scene photographs across his dining table. He has his laptop open with a half written powerpoint, as well as a sloppy lecture plan. He just about finishes setting up before the doorbell rings. Yuuri looks up from the table and immediately stands up, heading to open the door. His dogs bark and bark, dashing for the door, excited to see who is there. 

“Hey.” Yuuri clicks his fingers as he stands by the door. “Sit. Stay. Good.” Once his dogs are obediently seated on the floor, Yuuri opens the door. “Hi. Come in.” 

“Hi.” Reed flashes him a smile as he comes through the door. He leans down, giving Yuuri’s dogs a few scratches before standing to follow Yuuri to the dining table. “I wrote down a few things it might be useful to cover.” Reed says as he sits down. “Different types of criminal profiling, geographical profiling, victim profiling…” 

“Hmm…” Yuuri murmurs, sitting back down at his seat. “The Ripper has no specific victim pool.” He sighs. “He doesn’t even have a specific area-- these murders take place pretty much along the whole west coast.” 

“He has thirteen victims-- that we know of-- over the span of three years.” Reed reiterates. “He takes surgical trophies. Something you can note is the fact that surgical trophies narrows down the profile to a doctor or a butcher-- most likely a doctor. And  _ that  _ also potentially narrows down the victim pool for patients.” Yuuri hums, and taps away at his laptop, taking note of Reed’s suggestions. “We know that this doesn’t ring true for the Ripper, but what they learn here doesn’t apply exclusively to the Ripper, so still technically relevant.”

“So far I also have information on the victims-- who was in each sounder, which organs were taken, when and where they were taken… I also have photographs of each murder tableau, and notes to talk about what these tableaus represent.” Yuuri continues to add notes to his lecture plan, as well as to his powerpoint. At one point, planning lectures was the biggest struggle of his job. But nowadays, it’s the least of his problems. 

It takes them just over an hour to fully put together a plan for Yuuri’s next lecture. Yuuri doesn’t catch it, but Reed is staring at him. Or specifically, staring at plump, red lips that he tugs between his teeth and nibbles nervously on at the thought of delivering this lecture. 

“Thanks for helping me.” Sighs Yuuri. “I can’t believe what  _ should  _ be the easiest part of my job is still so stressful.” Yuuri removes his glasses and rubs his eyes, letting out a tired sigh into his hands. 

“No problem.” Reed smiles. “I’m happy to help.” He picks up his things and Yuuri walks him to the front door, clicking at his dogs to get them to sit. He opens the door. 

“See you on Monday?” Reed nods. 

“See you on Monday.” Yuuri’s about to close the door, but Reed stopped him. “Yuuri?” 

“Yes?” Before Yuuri’s mind can even read the situation, there’s a pair of lips on his  _ that aren’t Victor’s  _ and his brain is short circuiting, and all he can do is stand stock still until Reed pulls away. His heart pounds in his chest, breaths ragged with nervousness and face red. 

It takes Reed a total of four seconds to realise that is absolutely  _ not  _ the way to ask someone out. 

“Say something… please?” Yuuri stares, mouth agape as he tries to think of something to say. 

“I-I’m sorry, I’m not available!” He blurts, slamming the door shut. He slides his back down the door, kneeling on the floor as his flock of canines come to offer comfort. He distinctly hears Reed’s car drive away, and then he stands up and picks up his coat. 

***

Victor has just finished cooking dinner when the doorbell rings. His brow creases with confusion-- he isn’t expecting any company. Regardless, he opens the door. And much to his surprise-- sort of-- Yuuri is standing there, face flushed and breaths laboured. 

“Yuuri.” He steps aside and lets Yuuri in, who seems to be very lost for words and troubled. 

“I kissed Reed.” Yuuri blurts out as Victor’s eyes narrow. “Or more accurately he kissed me and I didn’t know what to do other than just stand there like an idiot.” Yuuri’s hands ran over his face as they stood in Victor’s kitchen, his back leaned against the countertop. 

“Oh. Well what was his reaction?” Victor asks, pulling dinner out of the oven. 

“I slammed the door in his face. U-unintentionally… reflexively… I don’t know, I don’t think I meant to slam the door in his face.” Victor frowns again as he pulls two plates from the cupboard and sets them down. 

“You didn’t mean to slam the door in his face?” Yuuri shakes his head. “Wondering then why you kissed him and felt compelled to drive an hour to tell me about it.” It’s a petty question on Victor’s behalf, he knows, but he can’t help but the pettiness that comes out as a result of his jealousy. 

“I didn't kiss him.” Reiterates Yuuri. “He kissed me.” 

“So do you have feelings for him?” Victor asked, picking up two plates and leading Yuuri out of the dining room. 

“No. Absolutely not. I told him I wasn’t available.” Yuuri murmurs, sitting down at the dining table as Victor sets a plate in front of him. His brows raise curiously, for Yuuri has caught his attention. 

“Oh? You did?” Yuuri stiffly nods. “And dare I ask who it was you had in mind when you told him you weren’t available?” Victor doesn’t miss the way Yuuri’s breath hitches as Victor wipes down the silverware with a tea towel. He’s about to set it down beside Yuuri’s plate when suddenly, there’s a tug at his tie and Yuuri’s face is so close he can feel Yuuri’s breath brush against his lips. Yuuri hesitates for a millisecond, his grip on Victor’s tie loosening ever so slightly. But without giving him a chance to doubt himself, Victor seals the gap between them. 

Yuuri shudders under Victor’s lips, but quickly finds himself kissing back, one arm wrapped around his body and his fingers digging into the meat of his back. His eyes flutter shut as Victor slowly drops the silverware and brings his face to cup Yuuri’s cheek.  _ God,  _ Victor’s lips are so soft, so  _ kissable.  _ It feels nothing like how it felt when Reed kissed him just an hour earlier. This feels right, Yuuri feels wanted. 

Their lips meet in a flurry of soft, chaste kisses, each one never lingering too long. Their noses brush and their foreheads touch, and Yuuri finds himself more and more welcoming of each touch. Victor’s tongue swipes over the bottom of his lip and Yuuri parts his mouth, letting out a soft whimper as Victor’s tongue flirtily licks and caresses his mouth. “V-Vic…” Yuuri mumbles against his lips. “Dinner… getting cold…” 

“I’m hungry for something else.” Pulling away, Victor scoops Yuuri up off the chair, causing the younger man to gasp. Yuuri is surprisingly light, and Victor manages to carry him through to the front room, plopping him down onto the leather chaise. 

“Your couch, Victor?” Yuuri huffs breathlessly, somewhat amused. “You don’t seem the type.” He teases. 

“Normally you’d be right.” Victor confirms as he presses a kiss to Yuuri’s neck. “But living in a three story house with the master bedroom on the top floor means there is a lot of stairs,” he presses another kiss, this time to Yuuri’s jaw, before he continues, “and I do not think either of us are up to climbing three flights.” Yuuri lets out a soft noise, hands tangling in Victor’s hair as Victor gracefully works to open the buttons of his shirt to kiss his collarbones. 

“V-Victor…” Yuuri whispers as Victor comes back up to kiss him, pushing the cotton fabric off Yuuri’s shoulders. He just catches Victor reaching into the cushion of the chaise to pull out a small tube of lube, and Yuuri cannot help the whisper of laughter that graces his lips. “That’s another thing that surprises me.” Victor chuckles. 

“I’m a man, Yuuri, who lives in a three story house alone.” Victor reiterates with a playful smile. “And I also work a rather stressful job.” His hands are careful as they undo the button and zipper on Yuuri’s jeans, pulling open the halves of his jeans to reveal the bulge in the cotton of his boxers. Yuuri whimpers as Victor pulls the jeans off his legs and cups his erection. “Did Reed kiss anywhere else?” Victor asks, tone petty again, even though he already knows the answer. Yuuri shakes his head. “Good.” Hands slide into Yuuri’s waistband and Victor glances up at the younger man. “May I?” 

“Yes, god please.” Yuuri pleads as the fabric slides down his legs. Victor takes a moment to soak in the sight of Yuuri, whom he’s been after for so long, in front of him, half naked, and  _ oh,  _ he has the most beautiful cock Victor has ever seen. Leaning in, he presses a firm kiss to the tip. “Mmh!” Yuuri whimpers, hips bucking as Victor presses kisses down the full length of his cock, the tip of his tongue teasing the vein on the underside. His arms loop under Yuuri’s knees, pulling his hips to the edge of the chaise for better access. 

Yuuri’s hands cover his mouth as an embarrassing noise threatens to escape his lips when Victor kisses that soft space just above his hole. “Do you know how long I’ve been trying to court you?” Victor asks, pressing a soft kiss to the inside of Yuuri’s thigh. 

“W-what?” Squeaks Yuuri, gasping softly at the kiss on his thigh. “You have?” Victor can’t help but chuckle. Despite Yuuri’s empathy, he’s completely oblivious to the people around him. 

“I don’t just share my bed with anybody.” Chuckles Victor teasingly as he glances up at Yuuri with big blue eyes before returning to the task at hand-- pressing kisses to Yuuri’s thighs. “And I don’t let just anybody practically move into my home with his dogs.” Yuuri almost has a face palm moment when he realises exactly how blind he’s been. Suddenly, he grasps Victor by the lapels of his suit jacket and yanks him back up to kiss him. 

“And… you don’t let just anybody kiss you, right?” Victor chuckles again. 

“No. I do not.” Yuuri lets out a sigh of relief. 

“Good.” 

Victor is quick to pop open the tube of lube, covering his fingers in the slick liquid. One hand presses Yuuri’s thighs apart as he brings the other to Yuuri’s hole, pink and winking, already eager to be toyed with. Gently, he rubs the pad of his finger over Yuuri’s rim, relishing in the soft moan it pulls from the younger man.

“V-Victor…” Yuuri rasps. “Come on…” Victor lets out a huff, amused by Yuuri’s impatience as he slides one finger through the tight ring of muscle. “A-ahh…” Yuuri sighs shakily as Victor fingers him open. One finger becomes two, becomes three, and soon enough, Victor has Yuuri writhing against his hand as the tips of his fingers flirt with his sweet spot. 

Yuuri’s breaths are ragged as he bites his lip, trying to keep the embarrassing noises at bay as Victor’s fingers slip out. Victor’s hands reach for his pants, but Yuuri stops him, grasping his hand by the wrist. “Wait.” Yuuri swallows nervously. 

“Yuuri?” 

“Can we…” Instead of finishing his question, Yuuri stands and grasps Victor to push him down into the chaise before straddling his lap. “I’d prefer it like this.” Victor can only smile, gazing in awe at the sudden boldness of Yuuri’s actions. 

“However you’re most comfortable.” Victor grabs Yuuri’s ass, pulling him further onto his lap so they’re chest to chest. 

Yuuri’s heart throbs so loudly in his chest he can barely hear himself think. His hands tremble nervously, breaths laboured and anxious as he stares at Victor, red faced as Victor cups his face. Leaning in again, Yuuri firmly plants his lips on Victor’s, letting out a soft noise at the tenderness of Victor’s plush lips, and the sweet taste of his Chanel lip balm. 

“Your lips are soft.” He whispers, cheeks and ears tented red as Victor chuckles sweetly. Yuuri’s hands drop to Victor’s waistband and he pulls open the belt before his dainty hands work at his button and zipper, pulling the halves of his pants apart to reveal silk boxers, tented with arousal. A shuddery breath falls from Yuuri’s lips as he swallows thickly. “Can I?” Victor’s hands hold his waist firmly to encourage him. 

“Yes.” Yuuri’s hand trembles a little, his heart still galloping in his chest as he frees Victor’s cock. Another quivering breath escapes Yuuri’s lips as his hand wraps around Victor’s cock, thick and long, with a slight curve to it. The tip is cut, flushed red, and a low moan rips from Victor’s throat when Yuuri’s thumb flicks the bulbous tip. 

“Yuuri…” Victor sighs, leaning in to kiss Yuuri’s neck as his hands grip Yuuri’s small waist. Yuuri gives his cock a few more long, slow strokes, revelling in the muted groans he manages to coax from the older man before he releases his cock to pick up the bottle of lube. He pops open the cap again and coats his hand to generously smother Victor’s cock, and with the guidance of the older man’s hands on his hips, Yuuri rises to his knees and lines up the tip of Victor’s cock with his winking hole. 

He gasps as the fat tip kisses his entrance, and with a firm roll of his hips, he pushes down, a soft whine ripping from his throat at the way Victor fills him. “Mmhh… you’re beautiful, Yuuri.” Victor murmurs into his neck as his arms loop properly around Yuuri’s waist and pulls him so they’re chest to chest again. 

“A-haa…” Yuuri lets out a shuddery breath as he settles fully in Victor’s lap. His hips roll, circling slowly while he gets used to the thickness penetrating him. He gasps as Victor’s member grazes his prostate, causing his hole to tighten and ripple around Victor’s girth. 

“Oh… Yuuri…” Victor whispers softly into the skin of Yuuri’s neck as he snakes his hands under Yuuri’s shirt, feeling the bare skin of his body under large palms. Victor lets Yuuri take his time as he slowly lifts his hips, grunting as Yuuri’s rim clamps around his cock, massaging the hot flesh. 

“Oh, god…” Yuuri mumbles, tucking his face into Victor’s neck, embarrassed by the moans that escape his lips. Victor’s hips buck to meet with each drop of Yuuri’s hips, their pace slow and gentle as they get used to each other’s touch.

Yuuri finds himself growing more confident as he reaches back, planting his hand on Victor’s thigh to brace himself as his hips bounce rhythmically, each drop punching a breathy gasp of  _ ‘Victor,’  _ from his lips. Victor revels in the way his name rolls off Yuuri's tongue. It sounds so sweet coming from his lover, accompanied by hiccups and quiet moans as Yuuri rides him. 

Victor peppers kisses from his ear and across his jaw, right down his neck, each one causing Yuuri to shiver as his ass clamps around him. “Ah, ah, ah, Victor…” Yuuri bites his lip, trying to hold back his noises. Victor can feel the way Yuuri tightens, ass fluttering erratically as Yuuri leans into him, arms wrapped tight around his shoulders as he buries his face once more into the crook of Victor’s neck. 

Each flex of Yuuri’s hips causes Victor’s cock to bully his prostate, which in turn has Yuuri squirming and mewling in his lap, squeezing Victor’s girth so tightly it’s almost difficult to pull out with one fluid movement. Victor grunts, snapping his hips with a particularly forceful thrust that tears a lewd cry of pleasure from Yuuri’s throat. “Ah, Victor… ’m close…” Warns Yuuri as he noses the shell of Yuuri’s ear. One of Victor’s hands releases Yuuri’s waist and snakes to his ass, grabbing a handful of meat possessively, the flesh spilling between his fingers and  _ oh,  _ that sends him over the edge. 

Yuuri comes, biting back a loud sob of bliss as his back arches and his cock spurts between their bodies, staining his shirt and Victor’s suit. His fingers dig into Victor’s shoulders as he muffles a slurry of  _ ‘ah, Victor… Victor… mmmhh!’  _ against his lover’s neck. 

Victor isn’t far behind. Yuuri’s orgasm has him twitching and convulsing around Victor’s cock, the pressure becoming impossibly tight and it pushes Victor right over the edge as he comes with a groan of  _ ‘Yuuri…’,  _ fingers digging into Yuuri’s ass and waist. 

Yuuri trembles in his lap, fatigued gasping for breath. His hair, once neat and tidy, now disheveled and matted to his forehead as sweat trickles down his face, ragged breaths forced from his lungs as he tries to catch his breath. Distantly, he can feel Victor’s hands roaming under his shirt, up and down his back, warm and comforting, and when his head clears, it dawns upon him that  _ “oh my god I just had sex with Victor--”.  _ Yuuri squeaks in embarrassment, and Victor feels him stiffen in his arms. 

“Yuuri?” He coos, concerned at Yuuri’s sudden rigidness. “Are you alright?” He asks softly. 

“I--” Yuuri lets out a breath and swallows dryly. “Y-yeah… I just… fuck… I didn’t… I didn’t think you were interested in me… like this…” He chuckles dryly, almost in disbelief as he clings to Victor, who lets out a quiet gasp of surprise, before a smile crosses his face. 

“I hope I’ve made that clear now?” Shyly, Yuuri nods, wincing when Victor’s softening length slips from his now tender hole. 

“So… is… is this…” Yuuri gestures between them, eyes big and pleading as he tugged his lip between his teeth. 

“This can be whatever you want it to be, Yuuri.” Reassures Victor. “Though I would prefer that this was a permanent thing rather than not.” He chuckles, somewhat nervously as his heart pounds wildly in his chest.

“I’d like that.” Yuuri murmurs. “For this… for this to be a permanent thing.” Victor smirks, not that Yuuri can see with his face buried in his shoulder. But he smirks, victorious, and he knows he’s won. Now all he has to do is take Reed out of the picture completely. Luckily, he still has one more dish for his dinner party in two days time that needs meat. 

———————————————————————

Victor waits in his PVC murder suit, sitting cross legged on Reed’s couch as he waits for the man to come home. His gloved hands lace together and his fingers tap as he listens out for a car pulling up the driveway and looks out for lights through the cracks in the binds. And soon enough, a car does, indeed, pull up in the driveway. Oh Victor can’t  _ wait  _ to kill him. 

He sits, eagerly awaiting the front door to unlock as he stands up, a blade in one hand as he stares expectantly at the front door. And then, it opens. At first, Reed doesn’t notice him. He kicks off his shoes and shuts the door, putting down his briefcase. 

“Hello, Reed.” Victor greets with a sinister smile, and the way Reed looks up, a look of confusion, then sheer  _ terror  _ on his face as he recognises Victor is by far the most satisfying reaction Victor has had so far. He’s stood stock still, frozen and unable to move as Victor stalks closer and closer to his next victim, a menacing aura seeping through the air that snatches the breath from Reed’s lungs. 

“Yuuri tells me you kissed him. Is that right?” Victor asks, trapping Reed between his broad stature and the wall as he plays with the blade of his knife. Unable to speak, Reed nods stiffly. “Tell me, Reed, what is it you find so fascinating about my Yuuri?” Victor asks, voice dark and possessive as the blade, ever so threatening, swung in Hannibal’s hand. When Reed doesn’t answer, Victor presses the blade against Reed’s trembling body, ripping a fearful whimper from the man. 

Victor is going to have  _ so much fun  _ with this. 

———————————————————————

Victor cannot accompany Yuuri to his latest case today-- another Ripper murder-- for he has a variety of dishes to prepare for before his guests arrive at seven p.m. So much to his dismay, Yuuri is… at the home of Reed Montgomery, whose body, much like the rest of the Ripper murders, is theatrically displayed, body arranged like the beings in a  _ Botticelli  _ painting, with the flowers and all. 

His heart has been removed so cleanly, and despite the gruesome scene the Ripper always leaves, there is no doubt about it that every murder is planned carefully, excecuted with precision, the brutality of murder covering the skillful hand of a surgeon. Yuuri’s teeth grit together, brows knitted together and he cannot help the twinge of sadness that courses through him. 

Despite the obviously unwelcome advances from the other night, Reed was still a, amical colleague, whom Yuuri had respect for in the academic scene. Yuuri can tell that Christophe is visibly frustrated by the scene, because now… the Ripper is bold enough to go after the FBI. And that means the pressure is on to catch him as soon as possible. 

***

Yuuri has to step away for the rest of the day. This job is overwhelming enough without having to strip apart crime scenes where his colleagues are the victims. He already has enough nightmares from strangers, though they have lessened in Victor’s company. So Yuuri heads for Victor’s house. Not to stay for the party, but just to see him, hug him, and gift him some wine before he heads down to the morgue. 

Victor is surprised to see Yuuri at his doorstep, just an hour before his guests are due. But obviously, he is not unwelcome. 

“Yuuri. Come in.” Victor moves aside to let Yuuri in, who is holding a bottle of  _ Batard-Montrachet, _ Victor’s favourite fine wine. “How was your day?” He asks as he leads Yuuri to the kitchen, where he is just finishing up preparing the vegetables. 

“It-- it’s… it’s the Ripper. He struck again, and this time he struck a senior lecturer at the FBI academy-- Reed.” Yuuri sighs, running his hand through his hair as he sucks in a deep shaky breath. “I had to step back from the scene because the fact that the man who kissed me two days ago is now _ dead  _ was just scary and overwhelming and the fact that he thinks he can target the FBI  _ and actually succeed— _ ” Before Yuuri’s rambling can continue, Victor envelopes him in his arms. 

“It’s a shame you can’t join me for dinner.” Victor says, caressing his hair. “It would have served as a great distraction.” Yuuri huffs, a broken chuckle falling from his lips. “I’m not sure what’s worse-- profiling crimes or being sociable.” Yuuri murmurs. “Unfortunately, I have a date with the Ripper.” He sighs heavily as he relaxes into Victor’s touch. Victor smiles at the words  _ ‘date with the Ripper’,  _ though he supposes the other meaning to that completely goes over Yuuri’s head. “Reed’s body is waiting in the morgue.” He mumbles, pulling out of Victor’s embrace. “Waiting for me to profile along with the rest of the bodies. So… I’ll be working late tonight.” 

“I’ll come by after I tidy up here.” Victor promises. “I’ll even pick up the dogs, bring them back here and… you can stay tonight.” Yuuri lets out a breath of relief, grateful for Victor’s offer as he leans to kiss him. 

“Thank you.” Sighs Yuuri As he pulls away. “Oh, and this is for you.” He hands Victor the bottle of alcohol, and he takes it with a thankful smile. “I’ll see you later.” 

“See you later, my love.” Yuuri’s heart leaps in his chest. This is all still so new for them, yet the fact that Victor already calls him his love just sends his heart rate through the roof. Victor cups his face and then leans to kiss his lips chastely before letting Yuuri go. 

***

True to Yuuri’s words, he’s working incredibly late. So late, in fact, that he’s the only one in the morgue. It’s getting close to eleven, but Yuuri wants to find something,  _ anything  _ that might give them a clue as to who the Ripper is. There’s no physical evidence, and all Yuuri has to rely on is his own empathetic imagination and the crime scene photographs. He sighs heavily, leaning against the empty table in front of him as he stares across at all of the Ripper’s victims, laid out on separate tables. 

Yuuri stands in the morgue, staring at the Ripper’s most recent murders. This time, there’s five bodies. Why the extra two? What happened to the Ripper’s sounder of three? Yuuri sighs heavily, his gaze lingering over Reed’s pale, limp body on the next table over, another wave of numb sorrow washing over him. These Ripper murders are starting to hit home with the death of Reed. With a heavy sigh, Yuuri opens the Ripper case file and combs through it with a fine tooth comb. 

The profile they had currently was someone with surgical experience. Someone who’s highly professional. They’re intelligent and careful and now,  _ close to the police  _ had been added, after Reed’s murder. The murders are always elevated to art. This is someone who has a finer appreciation for classical literature and fine art, and someone whose-- 

Yuuri sucks in a deep breath, and suddenly, his hands begin to shake. 

Reed had kissed him the other night. The night he fled to Victor's house and found comfort in him and the next evening he turned up murdered, mutilated in his own home. Victor was once an emergency room surgeon, having studied medicine at Johns Hopkins. Victor is graceful and meticulous-- everything he does, he does with finesse and his interests border on pretentious. Not only is he close to the police, he’s dating someone who works for the Federal Bureau. 

Yuuri feels claustrophobic, strangled. These nightmares he’s been having about these murders have been induced by the one person he finds comfort in, by the one person who makes these murders go away. Yuuri feels sick. But not because he suspects Victor might be the killer they’ve been chasing for so long, but he feels sick at himself, for not being disgusted by  _ Victor.  _

He’s so absorbed in his thoughts, in his sudden realisation, that he doesn’t even hear the door to the morgue open. And when Yuuri feels strong arms around his waist, he visibly jolts, dropping the case file on the metal table, the papers falling out as a ragged breath gets stuck in his throat, heart spiking in his chest. He feels kisses run up and down his neck before he can even respond and naturally, he recognises the smell of expensive cologne and recognises the feel of those lips. 

“You seem tense.” Murmurs Victor as his hand runs in soft circles over Yuuri’s midriff in an attempt to loosen the younger man. But for once, his tactile methods do not work. Yuuri doesn’t even dare  _ breathe.  _ “Yuuri?” Victor calls, loosening his hold on his waist so he can take a step back and eye the man up and down. “Are you alright?” Yuuri inhales sharply, holding his breath for a few seconds before releasing it slowly. He steps back, agesture for Victor to envelope him in his arms again because regardless of whatever the answer is to Yuuri’s question, he knows that it will always be Victor he finds solace in, and Yuuri knows, sickeningly, that him being a serial murderer will not change that. 

“If I ask you something…” Yuuri begins quietly, “would you tell me the truth?” 

“In my own way I always will.” Victor says. Yuuri bites his lip. He swallows thickly as he feels his heart, thumping up his chest as his hands squeeze the case file. Victor resumes kissing his neck, his hands roaming Yuuri’s body in an attempt to help him relax. Yuuri hesitates asking. He wants to feel Victor’s body pressed to his back, feel his hands all over his body. He wants to indulge in these arms that have become his safety net for a few more minutes before an inevitable gut twisting feeling begins to pool in his stomach. “What do you want to ask me, my love?” Victor’s nose brushes the shell of Yuuri’s ear as he dips his head to plant a kiss on a particularly sensitive spot on Yuuri’s neck. 

Yuuri lets out a shuddery breath and--  _ god,  _ Victor’s kisses shouldn’t rile him up, especially under these circumstances. But Yuuri can feel a warm heat in his lower body as Victor keeps kissing his neck and jaw, drawing out tiny, breathy noises from Yuuri’s throat. Victor just has this effect on him, one that Yuuri is certain won’t go away. He’s already decided-- or perhaps, he’d decided weeks ago--that he cannot live without Victor’s touch. 

Victor seems to smell the brewing arousal, for one arm unwraps from his waist and moves to caress Yuuri’s thigh, his hand warm and large through the denim of his jeans as he inches closer to where Yuuri is twitching, desperately trying to keep himself focussed on his revelation, and  _ not  _ on the way the slightest touch from Victor has him yearning. 

“Did… did you kill him…?” Yuuri dares to ask, biting his lip as he stares at the body on the table. “Reed… did you kill him?” His voice is strained, a mere whisper, yet Victor doesn’t seem phased. He seems just as calm and collected as he always is. His lips continue to drag along Yuuri’s neck, soft and moist with lip balm as he noses behind Yuuri’s ear and presses a kiss there, the hand on his thigh giving a reassuring squeeze. 

“What would you do, should the answer be  _ yes?”  _ Victor asks, holding Yuuri close as his hand ventures closer to Yuuri’s inner thigh, trailing up his leg as his fingertips threaten to trickle over the zipper of Yuuri’s jeans. Yuuri can’t hold back a gasp-- whether it is a gasp of horrific surprise or arousal at Victor’s soft touch however, he cannot be certain. 

“I-- I…” Yuuri doesn’t know  _ what  _ he’ll do. He’s taken Victor’s answer as a  _ yes  _ and his gut instinct is to push him away. Run and phone Christophe. But he doesn’t want to. He wants this man-- this  _ monster  _ to hold him. To touch him and kiss him and bring him pleasure, like he always does. Yuuri doesn’t want a thing to change between them. Tentatively, Yuuri turns around in Victor’s grasp and looks at him for the first time since Victor arrived. He leans in close, eyes fluttering shut, and Victor closes the gap between them, sealing their secret with a chaste kiss, quick to turn lustful. “Victor…” Yuuri whispers against his hips as he grabs the lapel of Victor’s jacket, and for a split second, Victor thinks Yuuri is going to push him away. But instead, he grips harder, pulls Victor closer, until their noses bump and their foreheads knock. 

“You…  _ fucking liar…”  _ Yuuri hisses, tears stinging his eyes. Still, he gives no indication that he doesn’t want Victor there, so Victor does what he does best-- comforts him. With a gentle hand, he cups Yuuri’s face and his thumb caresses his cheek. He removes Yuuri’s glasses, setting them down on the metal bench, and kisses away the angry tears that form in Yuuri’s eyes. “You’ve been lying to me for  _ months _ .” He whispers angrily, fist shaking as he digs his fingers into that stupidly soft wool. “I  _ trusted  _ you… trusted you to help me and I let you care about me and I--” Yuuri’s so angry that more tears fall down his cheeks as he grits his teeth, heart thundering in his chest as he lets out a long, slow breath through his nose. “It makes me wonder what else you’re lying to me about…” Yuuri hisses. And really, Yuuri is only wondering about one thing, only cares about one thing-- Victor’s feelings for him. 

“If you are questioning my intentions with you…” Victor begins, “they are genuine.” He promises, wrapping one hand back around Yuuri’s waist to pull him close and kiss his plump lips. “I swear to you my feelings for you are real and… everything between us… it’s real.” And  _ oh,  _ how Yuuri melts under his sweet words, under his tender kisses. Yuuri should push him away but  _ fuck,  _ he  _ can’t.  _ Yuuri cannot live without this man. He pulls them chest to chest, leaning in so close their lips just brush and their breaths mingle. 

“Prove it.” With a soft huff and a smile, Victor grabs handfuls of his ass and lifts him up, Yuuri’s legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as they kiss, deep and hard again. He drops Yuuri onto the table in front of them, knocking the case file flying over the floor as Victor towers over him and steals Yuuri’s breath with each kiss. Yuuri’s arms wrap around Victor’s neck, so tight it’s almost as if he’s afraid to let go. And he  _ is.  _ A part of him fears that if he lets Victor go, even for a second, he’ll be taken away from him. His lover will be ripped from him like a plaster over a wound. Yuuri doesn’t want that to happen. 

“Don’t lie to me ever again.” Yuuri whispers, biting the inside of his cheek as Victor’s fingertips flick open the button of his jeans and tug down the zipper. 

“Never again, my love.” Muses Victor, kissing Yuuri’s lips chastely as Yuuri lifts his hips, allowing Victor to slide his jeans and underwear down his thighs. Yuuri gasps and shudders as his bare ass hits the cold metal table as Victor pulls his jeans off, the fabric landing in a heap on the floor. 

“And don't… don’t hide…  _ any of this…  _ from me again.” He requests, and Victor seals his promise with yet another kiss, sucking and licking and nibbling at Yuuri’s plump, kiss-bitten lip. 

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Yuuri shudders as Victor pulls out a small tube of lube from his pocket, much to Yuuri’s surprise. 

“You’re prepared.” Yuuri chuckles breathlessly as Victor pops open the cap and coats his fingers. 

“You are irresistible.” Victor reasons as his fingertips tease Yuuri’s pink rim. “So I figured it is best to always be prepared.” Yuuri lets out a whine at Victor’s implication of frequent sex as a finger slides in, his body parting for Victor’s digit as he bears his hips down. 

“You…  _ mhh…  _ you intend to… to do this often?” Yuuri asks, though his cheeky tone is broken up by gasps of pleasure. Victor huffs, amused as a second finger slides in. 

“As often as you will allow.” Yuuri’s hips roll and he tightens, his grip on Victor’s shoulders also tightening as Victor pumps his fingers, feeling around for Yuuri’s sweet spot. Yuuri muffles his moans into Victor’s shoulder, quiet, breathy noises stifled by the luxury wool of his suit. A third finger slides in, and Victor pumps his fingers again. 

“Ahh--! V-Victor… there…” Yuuri rasps, hips bucking as Victor’s fingertips punch another  _ ‘ungh--!’  _ from his lungs. He can feel Yuuri’s fingers dig into his shoulder blades, grabbing and fisting the wool in small hands as Victor’s fingers bully his sweet spot, each press to the swelling nub of his prostate ripping another whine from Yuuri’s lips. 

A tight knot of pleasure begins to swell in Yuuri’s gut, coupled by a firm reminder that Victor is  _ literally  _ a serial killer. His conflicted mind is telling him they should stop. That they can’t do this, that he needs to come back to his rational mind and stop Victor. But he physically  _ can’t.  _ There’s finally someone in his life who loves him. Who understands him and cares for him and treats him well and-- God, Yuuri doesn’t fucking  _ care  _ if he’s a serial murderer. Or if Victor has been feeding him his kills. Or that Victor has killed a close colleague. Yuuri doesn't care, not when there’s finally someone to care about him. He forces down every single rational thought and lets himself melt under his lover’s fingertips. 

“V-Vic… more…” He pleads, and Vicor is quick to oblige. Fingers slide out from his hole with a wet noise, and Victor quickly works to open his own pants, parting the halves of his trousers and freeing his erection. Picking up the lube again, he smothers himself, tugging his cock to ease some of the tension as a strained moan catches in his throat. Yuuri winces as Victor’s tip nudges his rim. 

“Okay?” Yuuri hastily nods, so Victor pushes forward. 

“Aghh…” Yuuri mewls as his rim blossoms for Victor’s cock. It takes another firm push for the bulbous head of Victor’s cock to breach him, but the rest of his cock follows smoothly, Yuuri’s stomach clenching as he clamps around Victor’s girth, his velvet soft warmth enveloping him. 

Victor stifles a low groan, holding his breath as he sinks right into Yuuri’s heat. “You’re so tight…” He sighs shakily, sliding all the way in. He can feel Yuuri shiver blissfully under him, eyes squeezed shut as his hips roll, grinding back against his lover. 

Victor pulls out, almost all the way before slamming back in. Yuuri yelps, the metal table rocking under them as he sets a firm pace, hips snapping as Yuuri’s ass ripples around his cock, massaging the girth. “M-mmhh…” Victor moans, hands gripping Yuuri’s hips with bruising pressure as they fuck. 

“Haa… anhhh… Victor…” Yuuri whimpers as his arms tighten again around Victor’s neck, tears lining his lashes as he buried his face in the crook of Victor’s neck, inhaling sharply as the scent of Victor’s cologne mixed with his natural scent filled his nose. “C-close…”

“Already?” Murmurs Victor teasingly, amused as he turns his face to kiss Yuuri’s cheek, his cock pounding into him, pushing fluidly through the ring of muscle. Yuuri pouts, keening as his ass convulses, contracting and loosening around Victor’s cock rhythmically as Victor pushes him closer and closer to orgasm with each knock to his prostate. 

“C-can’t… mmh… h-help it…” Yuuri hiccups. “Ah, ah, ah… _ ”  _ With each thrust of Victor’s hips, Yuuri clamps harder and harder, and Victor stifles another trembling breath at the increasing pressure. 

“Ah… Yuuri… ohh…” Victor’s moans, so low and dripping with liquid sex, sends shivers down Yuuri’s arching spine, his hips rocking back against Victor’s. Yuuri’s legs curl around Victor’s waist, and Victor wraps his arms around Yuuri’s shoulders, one hand holding his head against his shoulder to cradle him. “Come with me, my Yuuri…” and  _ that  _ does it. 

“Nnghhhh!” Yuuri moans sharply, back arching off the bench again as he comes, ass pulsing around Victor’s throbbing cock. Victor gives a quiet breath of  _ ‘Yuuri--!”  _ before he too, comes, streaks of come filling Yuuri with a wet warmth. Yuuri can only whimper, holding onto his lover as his chest heaves, breaths ragged as sweat drips down his face. 

“Love you, Victor…” Yuuri tiredly huffs as Victor pets his hair and kisses his lips. 

“I love you too, my dear Yuuri.”

Yuuri cannot see it, but the way Victor grins at the sight of Reed’s body next to them… is  _ menacing.  _

He won. 

**Author's Note:**

> Don't forget to check out my [Twitter!](https://twitter.com/CarnivalMirai) Where I make iconic Hannibal tweets.


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